In the middle of the night, I had a nightmare.

About a rat

hanging on to the leg of my jeans,

tight,

with its pointy teeth.

I shook

and shook

my leg,

trying to fling it off.

I tried so hard,

I woke myself up.

Then I sat up,

confused.

I was relieved

there was no rat.

But I didn’t know where I was.

Just that I wasn’t home.

Nothing felt like home.

Not even the air.

When I heard the crickets outside,

I remembered.

And I lay back down.

I wanted to call out for my mom.

She’d bring me a glass of water

and rub my back

and say, “It was just a dream.

Don’t worry.

It was just a dream.”

I couldn’t believe

I hadn’t made it through a single night yet.

I couldn’t believe

I had nine more to go.

I remembered my whole rotten day.

My flying fall.

My stinging hands

and knees

and chin.

This stupid, lumpy bed,

which I couldn’t even make.

The swim test.

The mosquitoes.

The no-candy rule.

The rat.

The spiders spinning in the bathrooms

every time I went to pee.

Changing my clothes

in front of girls I barely knew

before swimming

and after swimming

and again before bed.

I don’t want to be here,

I thought.

I hate camp.

I just hate it.

I made an important decision then.

I fumbled in the dark for my flashlight

hanging on the wooden frame of my bed.

Then,

very quietly,

I climbed down my bunk ladder.

Gwen was breathing

a slow, whistly kind of breathing

in the bunk below mine.

I tiptoed past her

and got stationery and a pen from my cubby,

then climbed back up the ladder

and started writing a letter.

I wrote:

Dear Mom and Dad,

I have met Esmeralda.

Remember, Mom?

I have met Esmeralda.

I can’t wait to see you both.

This is how much I miss you:

You are still the best parents in the world.

And there’s no better grandma than Grandma Sadie,

who was trying to give me a present.

I still love you from the tips of my toes

to the top of my head

and out into the sky.

Even though you sent me here

with no warning at all

about the candy

or the bug juice

or the spiders

or the life jackets.

All my love,

Eleanor

I sealed that letter in an envelope

and addressed it.

As I was pressing on the stamp,

I heard a noise behind me.

I turned quickly,

scared.

But it was just Hope.

She stood at the foot of my bed and

rubbed her eyes.

“Everything okay?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I said. “Thanks.”

Then I handed her my letter.

“Would you mail this for me?

In the morning?”

I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “First thing.”

My whole body felt lighter then.

I knew I’d be going home soon.

I switched off my flashlight

and fell right back to sleep.